


First Chance of a Last Dance

by Kiwi25



Category: Archer - Fandom
Genre: Archer-FX, F/M, Gift Fic, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi25/pseuds/Kiwi25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls' night out leads to a trip down memory lane for Lana Kane with a few unexpected surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Chance of a Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ndnickerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/gifts).



**First Chance of a Last Dance**

Somewhere God was doubled over laughing at Lana Kane; clutching his side, tears streaming from his eyes, and struggling to catch his breath due to riotous laughter evoked by her current situation. Who ever said he didn’t have a sense of humor, lied. Cheryl the red-headed stepchild to her left, Pam the HR linebacker to her right, and Malory across the table completely and totally smashed on absinthe and any other illegal substance in her possession. This was the gist of their girl’s night; a cure for Lana’s broken heart after the inevitable break-up with ISIS accountant, Cyril Figgis.

Malory, Cheryl, and Pam had cornered her in the elevator and immediately she’d flitted between three perspectives – fight, flight, or fuck. She’d already been there with one and that was an indulgence she wasn’t willing to experience again.

Then Malory mentioned Major Nikolai Jackov and heartache in the same sentence and Lana knew this was some kind of failed attempt at a misguided intervention. She was Lana Kane, ISIS agent extraordinaire, she didn’t cry over men, well at least not ones who weren’t named Sterling. She’d insulted the women with a full toothed grin painted on her face as she tried to sidestep them once the elevator opened revealing the harsh lighting of the Laundromat. She was almost successful, until Cheryl gave her hand a tug, and Malory offered her a sip from her flask, and Pam followed suit with, “Come on Manhands, it’ll be fun.”

It was all bullshit.

Cyril was a rebound. He’d known it from the start and most importantly so had Lana. She refused to allow her heart to bend and yield under the excitement...the adventure of new love. Instead she boxed him in and forced him to play a role he was never created to satisfy. A part of her was happy, proud even, that he had rebelled and fucked Cheryl. It meant that somewhere under those professionally starched shirts and the oppression of all of Lana’s impossible demands, there was a spine.

So Lana raised her glass in a mock toast when she spotted the non – agent across the bar, whispering mathematical equations and their resulting calculations in the ear of a leggy blonde. Every man was a dog and waiting for the next best thing, Sterling had taught her that. She ignored carbon copy of Conway, sans gym membership, lingering behind her chair. She shook her head as Cheryl recounted the last night she spent with her legs wrapped around some stranger’s waist. She nearly choked on her cognac when Mallory asked the redhead, “Cheryl did you know you’re a whore?”

After hours spent in the intoxicated company of her co – workers could on occasion prove entertaining.

Then the DJ began to spin a melodic memory, one that immediately brought Archer to the forefront of Lana’s mind. Together they had twisted and rolled their bodies along to the tune in a smoke filled club in the Mediterranean. It was their first mission and the last thing she should have considered was the careless agent between her sheets. Their target slipped through their hands that night, but she could still remember the brilliance of his smile. Details that she no longer had need for, those emotions and sentiments had nearly cost her the life she valued.

She took a deep breath and accepted the hand of the Conway clone. He was a foot shorter than Lana; fifty pounds heavier than the rogue agent, and a poor excuse of a diversion. His breath smelled of cheap liquor, the clown couldn’t even afford top shelf. His hands were like slimy claws as they snaked a crooked trail along the curve of her spine, gripping the exposed flesh of her back along their journey. She wondered if it was too early to leave and catch Ms. Chang for the latest, hottest, nastiest porno in stock.

That’s when a familiar voice caressed her ears, “Excuse me,” a deep, rich, bottomless baritone filled the air around her and forced her mind to a place of temptation it knew well. She didn’t fight her trip to seduction, nor did she ignore her darkest desires. It had been far too long.

Lana’s dance partner took a few steps back and allowed room for his challenger’s entry. Sterling Archer, expertly styled in Hugo Boss, hair closely cropped and azure eyes filled with something akin to lust. She was in trouble.

She slid her fingers into the vice like grip her companion offered, mesmerized by the way her muscles remembered the stroke of his fingertips, how her body fell in line with the jagged edges of his form. Her pulse responded to the palm pressed against the small of her back, the digits that brushed the swell of her ass, and the shit eating grin that lined his lips.

Lana regained her senses and ended her trip down memory lane.

“Wipe that smug look off your face jackass.”

Sterling pulled her closer and her breath hitched when his scent danced around her nose.

“That’s why I dumped you…”

Exasperated and horny, that’s where endless arguments with Sterling Archer left an infuriated Lana Kane, “Asshole, I dumped you and your suitcase full of mommy dearest issues.”

Arrogantly smooth, her ex countered, “And I just saved you from the worst sexual experience of your life.”

“I beg to differ…” Her voice escalated an octave before his lips interrupted her statement.

Was this some kind of cruel joke? Archer was the worst agent on the ISIS payroll. Employed only because he shared a surname with the agency’s head. Still, Lana could not deny that the sensations he created as he tasted and probed her mouth gave evidence of a deep proficiency that only came with time, patience, and practice. She’d missed this - missed him, the banter that always led to pleasure filled evenings behind closed doors. Yet that was only one segment of their relationship, there was still the unavailable – unattainable heart of Sterling Malory Archer.

He studied her face as the wheels turned in her head.

“Sorry about the break-up with Cyril.”

He was being facetious, “Fuck off…”

“Seriously, I thought, maybe,” He lowered his eyes as his voice fell to a husky whisper, “He was the one.”

The music had stopped and God’s laughter had waned.

 _The one…_

Her lips parted and her voice returned only to be silenced by the sound of bullets ricocheting off bodies and walls.

It was time for Lana Kane to do what she did best, kick ass; she was no good at love and this brutal honesty shit.


End file.
